


strip

by jhoom



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Drinking, M/M, PWP, Strip Poker, humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Booze and strip poker should just *not* mix.  Or, well, maybe they do.</p><p>After a game of strip poker, Holster and Ransom end up crashing together on Holster's bunk.  And maybe they're a little horny and out of it when they wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strip

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 500 WORDS GODDAMNIT. I have four WIPs I want to get done and here these two fuckers are, demanding I write about them getting each other off. Because fuck what I plan on working on, apparently. Ugggh. 
> 
> Okay, enough whining. This was actually kinda fun to write and I love these two idiots. I plan on writing them again soon. Ish. Still go those WIPs to finish up...
> 
> Visit me on tumblr [@jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com)

They win, the house drinks in celebration, and things get out of hand.  Nothing new, really.  The trouble starts with someone finding a deck of cards and the drunken suggestion that they should play strip poker.  Everyone is enthusiastically in because how often do you get a chance to play strip poker?  Not often enough is the answer.  Gotta jump at any chance you get.

Holster's not _bad_  at poker.  He's not necessarily _good_  at it, but he wins a few hands.  Shitty is just terrible, taking way too much delight in being forced to strip.  They end up kicking him out of the game, which does nothing to stop him from stripping.  Should've seen it coming, really.  

Lardo and Bitty are actually the best.  Lardo has an _amazing_  poker face.  Bitty, with his cheeks flushed pink from one two many beers, probably couldn't bluff to save his life.  But the _luck_  that boy has.  Holster has never actually _seen_  a royal flush in a real game.  They all have to lose some clothes for that one.

Which leaves the mediocre win-some-lose-some luck to be spread out between himself, Ransom and Jack.  You'd think stoic Canadian hockey robot would transfer to decent poker player.  In Jack's case at least, it does not.  Not because he can't get good cards and not because he can't bluff.  He's just _terrible_  at knowing when other people are bluffing.  So bad he doesn't even pick up on Bitty's tell tale habit of nervously biting his bottom lip while looking at the ceiling.  

It's pretty late when he and Ransom stumble up the stairs.  Ransom is down to his t-shirt and boxer briefs.  Holster did about as terribly, nothing but his boxers left to cover what remains of his dignity.  (His best hand all night was a full house, but that was of course when Bitty had his stupid royal flush.  Ugh.)  They're just a touch past coherent and it takes a coordinated effort to get the door open.

Holster practically collapses onto his bed, struggling for a bit to get the blanket out from under him (no success - he just gives up).  He doesn't hear the mattress above him settling under Ransom's weight, so he turns his head enough to look around.  Ransom is standing next to the bed, looking up at his bunk with such sad resignation it's almost heartbreaking.  

It clicks that if the two of them _together_  could barely make it up a friggin flight of stairs, there is no way Ransom is making the climb up to his bed.  

"Bro," he mutters, words half-muffled by the pillow.  "Come 'ere."  He scoots just enough to make room, patting the empty space in invitation.

He has to wait all of two seconds before Ransom's scrambling into the bed.  With two of them, it's kinda cramped but they can almost get shoulder to shoulder (there's a bit of overlap but it's pretty manageable).  Their combined body heat makes up for the MIA blanket and they're asleep before either has a chance to mutter a slurred, "G'night."

\- - - -

They shift at some point during the night.  Maybe it gets a bit colder and they need the extra heat.  Holster's vaguely aware of an arm draped over his side and a warm body running along his back.  He's not awake or sober enough to really think about it, just snuggles into it.

\- - - -

There's always that disoriented way you wake up when you've had too much to drink.  Not knowing where you are or how you got there.  What he really notices is that he's comfortable and that there are birds singing outside.  Nothing too worrisome, so he lets himself kind of drift in that not-quite-asleep-but-not-yet-awake feeling for a while, just enjoying that there's no practice today or class today so he actually gets to sleep in.  

Eventually the bed shifts a bit and then there's someone's morning wood pressing against his ass.  The pressure's not invasive or demanding, just kinda _there_.  He gasps slightly, his instincts and growing morning wood taking over as he rocks back into it.  There's a small grunt, low and deep so that he doesn't recognize it.  

Where his memories of the previous evening should be are just a blur of pictures that don't quite make sense.  Something about drinking, obviously.  Maybe a joint at some point.  Cards?  Did they play cards?  But for the life of him, he can't remember getting into bed with a guy.

But the guy's in bed with him, right?  So...

Experimentally, he rolls his hips back again.  One or two more times.  There's an appreciative grunt, which of course only eggs Holster on and he keeps going.  One particular aggressive movement gets a hand moving to his hip to keep him still and a broken off moan.  

And yeah, that's definitely Ransom.  

He freezes for a bit, his earlier arousal giving way to fear.  He can totally play this off though.  Right?  Pretend he was asleep.  Get chirped for a bit and be super embarrassed for the rest of ~~the day~~   ~~the week~~  eternity, but no harm done.

Before he can panic too much, he feels Ransom's nose pressing into the back of his neck.  Then there's a very deliberate thrust against him, followed by a few more.  

Given how out of it he was when he first woke up, Holster should still be careful.   _He_  sure as fuck knows what's going on right now, but that doesn't mean Ransom does.  But even biting his lips, he just can't help the whimper that escapes.  There's a pause in the movements behind him.  

They both feel the tension, the tipping point of this moment.  With bated breath they wait to see which one of them will chicken out first.

Holster makes up his mind.  Maybe it's just because he's horny as fuck right now or he hopes he can get away with it because of the lingering alcohol in his system, but he is totally okay with things proceeding.  So he rocks his ass back into Ransom's still hard cock, moaning a bit as he exposes his neck in offering.

Almost instantly, he hears an answering growl before Ransom tightens his grip and starts thrusting again in a choppy rhythm.  Then there are lips, wet sloppy little kisses, on the back of his neck.  

" _Fuck_ ," Holster chokes out as he moves a hand to palm his cock through his boxers.

Ransom stops just long enough to pull down Holster's boxers before batting his hand away and replacing it with his own.  Now he times each thrust of his hips with the upstroke of his hand on Holster's cock and _fuck_  he was not ready for this, he's already panting jfc-

And then the hand is gone and the space behind him feels empty.  

He's not sure what the noise he makes sounds like - probably pretty pathetic since he's about to beg Ransom to start again - when he's pushed roughly onto his stomach.  There's the sound of clothing being pulled off and then there are large hands framing his head and a warm but definitely _naked_  body draped over his own.  

Hmm and that definitely feels like a dick in the grove of his ass.

" _Fuuccck_ ," he hisses, utterly wrecked and just a touch embarrassed that he apparently doesn't know any other words right now.

Ransom starts moving again, thrusting slowly.  Holster moans and tries to buck up against the slide of Ransom's cock but he's held down too firmly.  Barely able to move, he moans in approval as Ransom picks up the pace because this is probably the hottest fucking thing.  He's never been with anyone who could manhandle him - he's not exactly a small dude and most of his sexual encounters were with chicks - and _damn_  if it wasn't sexy.

(Hopefully he didn't say any of that out loud.)

His scratchy wool blanket and the pressure from above are teasing him with friction while he feels Ransom move above him.  He can feel the precum slicking the way for Ransom's dick to move, sometimes just *barely* catching on his rim before moving on and *fuck* he hopes they do this again some time so they can try that too.  As it is, he's totally gone, muttering probably the most obscene things.

"Fuck, bro, harder.  Yeah- Oh _fuck_ \-  Wish you were in me, so good...  Want you to make me come, bro, want you to come all over me... Mark me up real good..."

(Is calling him bro right now the same as trying to no homo out of this?)

"You got a filthy mouth, Holts," Ransom finally mutters and damn if his voice doesn't sound all sorts of husky and sexed out.  

Humping a little harder (or as hard as he can with the limited range of movement he's allowed), Holster groans into the pillow.  "You have no fucking idea, I'll show you some time the things I can do-"

"Oh _god_ -"  And yep, Ransom's voice _can_  get even rougher.  "Can't just say shit like that..."  He falters slightly before getting control of his rhythm again.  "Maybe next time we can get you on your knees."  

He's glad the pillow is right there to muffle all the sounds he's making just thinking about that picture.  He's not sure if that's supposed to be a chirp or not because all he can think is, _"Yes, please, that."_  And it's not like he's going to have to admit to anyone the way his heart skips a beat at the idea of there being a "next time."  

Holster can't get the idea out of his head, though.  Sitting between Ransom's legs, teasing little nips along his thighs before mouthing at the head of his cock, tasting-

And then he's coming into his bedspread, hips twitching, and hopefully something along the lines of a gasp escaping instead of the undignified little whimper it probably ends up being.  

"Fuck, Holster, did you-"  And then he can feel the wetness of Ransom's cum spilling onto his back.  

Ransom collapses on him a moment later, a dead post-coital weight that nearly knocks the wind out of him because fuck he's heavy.  A nice kind of heavy, but still.  He just tries to enjoy it for a minute.  Holds off on worrying about if "next time" actually is a thing or if it's just something said in the moment.  People say tons of shit when they're horny and he doesn't wanna pressure Ransom into doing something like this again (no matter how fun it was) if he's just not into it.

Eventually, though, he has to nudge Ransom to get off of him.  There's cum drying on both him and his bed.  Gross.  He needs a shower.  

"Ugh, we are so gross."  Ransom rolls off of him.  "I need to shower."

"You read my mind, bro."

When he turns around, he sees Ransom making a bit of an ick-face as he pulls on his boxer briefs and starts looking for a towel.  Guess this is the part where they pretend they're still cool and nothing is awkward and they didn't just get off humping each other.  

"Wanna join me and like, make out in the shower?"

... What?

"What?"

Ransom looks like he's about to start back tracking.  

"Wait, no!  I mean yes.  Definitely.  That.  We should do that."

They try to sneak into the bathroom together.  Not because they're embarrassed (well, maybe a little, but mostly about the cum drying all over them).  More because they just wanna get their hands all over each other and don't want to get sidetracked by awkward conversations with their roommates.  They can deal with those after round two.

"Oh lord," Bitty mutters to Jack, both of whom are starring out of their doors at their star defensemen giggling their way into the bathroom.  "Those two were all over each other before."


End file.
